


Sneaky's Trick-or-Treats

by SneakyHufflepuff



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 05:56:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1116325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SneakyHufflepuff/pseuds/SneakyHufflepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short snippets for lots of different people, including Captain America protesting, a Winter Olympics AU, injured Clint and costume choosing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winter Olympics AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for frea_o

“Clint, these are Agents Drew and Danvers from the FBI.” Hill brought two women, both dressed in bland suits that hid their identity as effectively as any mask, into the hotel room and closed the door carefully behind her.

Clint looked up from the map of the Seoul course with interest. What did two FBI agents want with a biathlete who barely made the relay team?

“Mr. Barton.” Agent Danvers stepped forward and offered her hand.

Clint shook it. “Agent, how can I help you?” He looked up at Hill, who nodded slightly. The agents were legit then. Coach Hill had never led him wrong.

Agents Drew and Danvers shared a look, silently communicating something that Clint couldn’t guess.

“We have a mission at the Winter Olympics, and your background makes you ideal to help us.” Agent Drew placed a file on the table in front of him, over the map of the Seoul course.

Clint looked calmly back at her, not showing his surprise. His background, performing extralegal operations for the CIA, was buried so deeply that even Hill hadn’t uncovered it. For these Agents to know about it meant that there was more to them then appearances suggested.

He flipped open the thick folder. On the first sheet of paper was a picture of a beautiful redheaded woman, Natasha Romanoff, the first genuine international star of biathlon.

“She’s the niece of the most powerful mob boss in Russia. We want to interrogate her. And you’re going to help us do it."


	2. Protesting the American Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for alpha_flyer

Christine lifted herself off the floor of the police van with difficulty, hampered by her handcuffs. Around her, the other arrested protestors did the same, finding the two metal benches bolted to the sides of the van.

One man, whose well defined arms Christine had noticed with appreciation before the police had broken up the demonstration, stayed on his feet. The lurching of the  
van didn’t seem to faze him, and he started talking intently with a younger man with a near perfect physique, his voice low.

“We’ll wait another minute, I’ll get my cuffs off, and then you can break through the back-“

“No.” The other man clenched his almost too-chiseled jaw, blue eyes hard.

“No?” the older man asked incredulously. “Do you have a better idea?”

“I’m staying.”

“What?”

“If the law was important enough to break, it’s important enough that I must be willing to accept the consequences of my actions.”

The older man shook his head in disbelief, but sat down on the bench, next to his friend, who looked at him in surprise.

“Clint, what are you doing?”

“Sticking around. Nat will kill me if I don’t look after you.”

Even to Christine, who didn’t know the men, that explanation seemed weak. Still, it wasn’t any of her business. She struggled to recall the number of her lawyer. She had a feeling it was going to be a long day.


	3. Loyalty Cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for enigma

Central Park was just cold enough that the crowds were sparse, but not cold enough to be unpleasant, with crunchy leaves on the ground. Natasha and Steve had made a habit of walking around the park, people watching. Today was no different than any other, with Steve buying a hotdog and Natasha a bottle of water, because even several years of being a rogue assassin hadn’t cured her of squeamishness when it came to hotdog stands.

This time was a little different however. Steve’s wallet was bursting with bright plastic cards that hadn’t been there the last time.

“Steve, what are those?” Natasha asked, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Oh, loyalty cards. Every store I go to wants to give them to me, and I usually end up getting a few good deals for it.” Steve paid the vendor for his hotdog, and left a dollar in the tip jar.

Natasha smiled at the vendor, and pulled Steve away. “You realize those cards mean that the stores track your purchases?”

Steve stopped moving, hotdog halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“Companies track what you buy, so they can advertise more effectively to you. Some companies even sell their customer data.” Natasha informed Steve. That was the reason she glared at any store clerk who suggested she sign up for a loyalty card.

“Huh.” Steve said. “Figures.” He returned to eating his hotdog, looking happily at the people around him.

“You’re not upset about this? Ready to go on a crusade for privacy rights?” Natasha asked, only slightly mockingly.

Steve shrugged. “I got to pick my battles. So, tell me about Quebec.”

Natasha laughed, and proceeded to tell him a tale of zombies, Halloween pumpkins and scantily clad college students that was only twenty percent false.


	4. Injured Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for shenshen77.

Clint shifted his left hand under the icepack and used his right to change the channel. Nothing was on other than reality television and cop show reruns. He settled for a rerun of ‘Castle’ over a backstabbing housewives show, only to find that it was an episode about a backstabbing housewives reality show. Damn.

He checked the clock on the wall, which seemed to be going twice as slow as usual. Only three more minutes, and it would be time to shift to the hot pack. The new S.H.I.E.L.D. doctor, Dr. Ramirez, already well acquainted with Clint, had assured him there would be no lasting damage from the accident, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t in pain.

The door to his apartment clicked, and swung open. Clint kept on meaning to give Natasha a key, but she was more than comfortable lockpicking her way into his apartment. He sat up straighter, grateful for the distraction.

“Tash!” Clint called in greeting, waving with his left hand, forgetting for a second that it was encased in a ratty dishcloth and icepack.

Natasha, on her way to the kitchen with a bag of groceries, raised her eyebrow at the icepack, silently asking him the reason for his injury. Clint shrugged and shifted uncomfortably on the couch. _I don’t want to talk about it._ The corner of Natasha’s mouth lifted in a smile, and she didn’t inquire any further.

Clint returned to changing the channel. Damn doors. Natasha would never let him live it down if he revealed that he closed a door on his own hand.


	5. Costume Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for cybermathwitch

“What if I go as a pirate?” Steve asked Natasha, looking dubiously at the costume display. He didn’t have enough clothes that he could throw together a reasonable costume from his own wardrobe, and had made the mistake of confessing this to Natasha. Mere minutes later, he found himself in a brightly Halloween store, surrounded by cheap fabric and other last minute shoppers.

“No,” Natasha responded firmly, clearly finding the brightly colored and poorly sewn costume lacking. “That’s boring." She paused to consider the remaining options. "If you want to be cute, you could go as a penguin. At least that’s original.”

Steve looked at the bulky penguin costume. It was indeed cute, but not what he had in mind for the S.H.I.E.L.D. Halloween party. He weighed the potential benefits of her advice with the inevitable mockery. “I was actually hoping for something that would impress someone.”

Natasha looked silently at Steve, waiting for him to spill the rest.

“Agent 13. We were on that mission in Ghana together, and, she’s a swell dame.”

Natasha eyes sparkled in triumph. “She certainly is." She also muttered something under her breath that sounded like "And Clint owes me twenty bucks."

Natasha returned her gaze to the row of men’s costumes that had already been picked over. Her gaze finally came to rest on a Prince Charming costume.

“No,” Steve said, before Natasha even had a chance to point it out.

“Steve, if there was ever anyone born to be a Disney Prince, it’s you.”

Three minutes later, the store clerk was putting the Prince Charming costume in a bright yellow bag. “Out of curiosity, what are you going as?” Steve asked.

Natasha gave one of her trademark mysterious smiles. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Steve wasn’t surprised, the next day, when Natasha won best costume for her blood stained portrayal of Boadicea, though her victory might have been a result of a unique combination of bribery and blackmail in pursuit of votes. He was surprised when a slightly tipsy Agent 13 gave him her number.


End file.
